NOT WITHOUT MY FATHER
By Jashi
N O T E: PotC isn't mine. Please read and review this. I don't know how long it's going to be. It is a tale chronicling the life of Will Turner's father, William Turner, better known as Bootstrap Bill.
CHAPTER ONE
The sky was bleary and smeared together all gray-like; it mixed with the dark smoke from the cannons and the guns. The air was foul, and one could hardly breathe in the turmoil. Wind blew harshly, blowing the smoke into the eyes and the mouths of the very weary men.
His eyes were heavy; he'd gotten no sleep that night. The cries of the dying, the shrieks of those trying to grasp that rope of life but drowning in death gave him no peace.
The flies buzzed everywhere. He'd seen some of the most torturous and grotesque sights of man…men bleeding, rotted, and dead with flies laying eggs in the dark pits of their heads were eyes had once been. Boys, including a friend of his, not a day older than sixteen, with their bellies cut open, hatches buried deep in their stomachs, and their cries for mother, mother, mother! And there was that terrible feeling, knowing he could do nothing to ease their pain. They were going to die. It was a cruel fact to accept for a boy so young, but William had learned it well.
Their spirits were broken, and their bodies too.
William Turner marched along with the last of the small regiment. He was a tall, skinny boy whose ribs showed under his clothes. He was tired, and next to him marched his weary father, James.
James was a very sturdy man, tall and well-muscled with eyes so dark they were almost black. He had once been a proud man who walked straight and tall, bending to no man's will.
But now he was bent over, coughing and nearly staggering in line. He was sick with pneumonia, but his pride kept him moving one foot in front of the other.
Even though it nearly killed him to do so.
He coughed so hard that it alarmed William. His eyes grew wide as he saw his father bent over, coughing so hard it was almost as though it was his very soul hacking; it was as though his soul was trying to come out.
When the fit stopped, there was blood on his father's hands.
"Pa, hold on. S'almost dark. We'll stop soon."
James nodded, somewhat appreciatively. It was hard to tell since it was getting dark. William looked about. Other men were staggering along, eyes wild and staring off into the sky.
It was only later when they stopped that William realized his father would not last the night. He spent that horrid, cold, rainy night next to his father, watching him and giving him water. He was afraid if he closed his eyes, even just for a moment, he might disappear and never be seen again. He fell asleep to the coughing of his father and the cries of the dying.
The next morning they were ambushed by the French.
William had never seen such chaos. The men were retreating as fast as they could, the captain screaming for them to retreat. James lay on the ground coughing, unable to move.
"Pa, Pa, please get up!" William begged the sickly man, shaking him. "We've got ta get out a' here…please, Pa!"
But James was lost to him, stiff and paralyzed. His breathing was scant and hardly a sound came from him. William shook him, becoming desperate and panicky as more Frenchmen began shooting.
Men were yelling and running and the captain yelled to William to go, hurry, RETREAT!
"Not without my father!" screamed William, "Please! Somebody help! My father, my father!"
Tears were beginning to drip down his cheeks as he shook the man again and again. James' eyes rolled back into his head.
"Pa, please! Get up, please, please…" his voice was muffled and he cried.
The captain cried for a final retreat, then bolted himself.
"NOT WITHOUT MY FATHER!" screamed William, his voice cracking and his throat red and raw with pain. A bullet skived by his head and he fell, unconscious.
He woke up later to find his father dead beside him.
~
And so begins the tale of Bootstrap Bill. Please review. I know this is a short beginning, but it is only the beginning. To be continued…